Homecoming sheds light on path to the future

In the dusty Tanzanian village of Sikonge, in a hospital office, hangs an old photograph in black and white.

Pictured alongside the original staff of the Sikonge District Hospital are the Danish Moravian Church missionaries who founded the hospital in 1936.

Black faces and white faces, ''together like the melody of a piano,'' said Erick Mlowezi, a hospital administrator who has the photo in his office. ''Black and white, like the keys of a piano.''

Mr. Mlowezi is black, as were the original hospital staff. The lives of the Danish husband-and-wife founders are a mystery to him.

''I don't know, but I can just imagine,'' he said looking at the photo one day with Mia Mengel, a Moravian Church missionary from the Lehigh Valley.

A photo can't tell of hardship, Mr. Mlowezi said, of the relationship between the founders and medical staff and what could have been a tenuous alliance forged in this remote part of Tanzania more than 70 years ago.

Still, Mr. Mlowezi is encouraged by the partnership of black and white. Perhaps his face will grace the next portrait. Maybe there is space for Mia or one of seven other missionaries who traveled with her on a landmark mission in the summer of 2006.

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Like the hospital's founders, Mia and Mr. Mlowezi are members of the Moravian Church, a bond of faith that joins them despite their vastly different worlds.

The Moravian Church in the United States -- Mia's church -- is wealthy but shrinking. The Moravian Church in Tanzania -- Mr. Mlowezi's -- is fast-growing but poor. Now home to most of the world's Moravians, the Tanzanian church must rely on support from richer congregations in countries like the United States.

Moravian leaders in the United States sent eight missionaries from the Lehigh Valley to Tanzania, hoping to pull the churches closer and spark a revival in missionary work.

The missionaries set out to change circumstances for the ailing church. In the end, they found the greatest change in themselves. The sweeping poverty, hope and spirituality they witnessed would continue to affect them in ways they could scarcely have imagined.

At daybreak on June 27, 2006, five of them left Sikonge. Mia remained in the village with mission guides Bill and Peg Hoffman for three more weeks. The others, in a flutter of last-minute hugs, boarded a Land Cruiser that would take them out of the village. Slamming the door behind him, the Rev. Gordon Mowrer looked out the window and waved goodbye.

His grandson Forrest, safely out of earshot of his mother, said for the first time that he was glad he made the journey. The people he had met -- the orphans in outlying villages, an old blind man at a leprosy camp who defied infirmity to dance and sing -- had made a lasting impression.

It was a hint of change in Forrest that would continue to shape the then-13-year-old. On the plane to Tanzania more than a week earlier, he had told his mother Ruthie Huron, ''I hate you for this.'' She was just glad he had gotten on the plane with her.

'Amazed by the change' Ultimately, it was Rev. Mowrer's physical ailments that sparked a change in his grandson that both touched the reverend and convinced him Forrest would do great things with his life.

Rev. Mowrer's left leg, with nerve damage from a botched operation years earlier, was stiff and painful in Tanzania. His hearing also often failed him as he struggled to pick up strains of dinner conversation over the din of clanking plates and forks.

Forrest became his grandfather's shadow, offering his shoulder as a crutch and saying ''lean on me'' as the two visited clinics, hospitals and villages. ''I'm amazed by the change in Forrest,'' said Rev. Mowrer.

He was glad Forrest was around to help him, but Rev. Mowrer, now 71, wondered aloud on the trip if he would ever again undertake such a difficult journey as the mission to Tanzania. He first visited Tanzania as a tourist more than two decades earlier, one of many trips abroad. As a tourist, Rev. Mowrer saw the world. As a missionary, he deepened his humanity.

He learned his fellow Moravians are poor but intensely spiritual, generous and kind. People there approach strangers, greet them with a handshake and ask about the health of their family. In a country of overwhelming need, he watched children squeal with delight as they played with soccer balls fashioned from wadded-up plastic bags bound with twine or skinny strips of cloth.

In Sikonge, Rev. Mowrer saw what his church in Bethlehem had contributed, as much as $30,000 a year during the last 17 years -- a sum that has built churches and dormitories, dug water wells and brought electricity to parts of the village.

When he came home, he felt rejuvenated. Taking a break from retirement, he accepted an invitation to become interim pastor of the Midway Manor Moravian Church in Allentown. Rev. Mowrer has encouraged his flock to join him in helping the people of Tanzania. Some have heeded the call.

Since their return, Rev. Mowrer and his wife, Mary, have sponsored a young man they met at the bible college in Sikonge, paying for his tuition and school supplies. They also have contributed money for a roof at one of the village churches and are working with church leaders in the United States to whittle the list of needs prepared by the bishop of Western Tanzania.

Spreading the word

Still, a question echoed at church gatherings and among the eight missionaries months after they returned from Tanzania: Where do we go from here?

The missionaries reunited at the Mowrers' town home in the $75 million retirement community built by Bethlehem Moravians. Seated at the dining room table, they traded pictures from the trip and easy conversation between bites of finger sandwiches. The mood changed to serious reflection when Rev. Mowrer asked what each person learned on the journey.

Ruthie was struggling to define the purpose of the trip. To her, mission work had always meant trips to the Third World to help build a church, clean up a beach or volunteer at an orphanage. Her mission to Tanzania was different in a way she couldn't explain.

''I want to do something and I don't know what that is,'' Ruthie said. ''I have more questions than anything else. Anyone have any answers?''

Dr. Bill Hoffman, one of the missionary guides on the trip, did. He recalled how, many years ago -- before he and his wife, Dr. Peg Hoffman, left the Presbyterian Church to become Moravians -- the couple went on a mission to Mexico to build a retaining wall.

Working alongside expert masons, Bill Hoffman, a skilled surgeon, began to wonder if it would be more helpful to provide money and materials and let the masons do their job. He concluded such projects are often an excuse for the true goal of the mission -- bridging a cultural divide.

''They help us understand how our brothers and sisters are living in other parts of the world,'' he said.

Gaining firsthand knowledge of Tanzania, he said, was the initial step in bridging that divide. The next step for the missionaries was educating others, rallying financial support for the church in Tanzania and inspiring other Moravians to go on missions of their own.

''Too many people have heard us talk; they need to hear you talk about [Tanzania],'' Bill Hoffman told the group.

Since the townhouse gathering, almost all the missionaries have given presentations at churches and for civic groups. Offers of help for the Tanzanian church and a flood of requests to go on future missions followed. Although she's unsure how, Ruthie wants to return to Tanzania.

The missionary renaissance church leaders had envisioned appears closer to reality. The challenge for the church will be finding a way to get the next wave of missionaries to Tanzania. One problem is finding a place to house and feed them in the village of Sikonge. Safety is another concern.

Church leaders have faith the answers will reveal themselves.

Children of the church

A year after the 2006 trip, the Hoffmans have come and gone on another mission and will return to Tanzania at the end of the month.

The couple, both retired doctors, have been going there since 2000, long enough for Bill Hoffman to learn Swahili and Peg Hoffman to cherish her new endearing title, Mama Peg. In May, they received honorary doctorates from Moravian College for their work fighting AIDS in Tanzania.

In the United States, the Hoffmans continue giving slide shows at Moravian churches. These days the presentations focus on AIDS orphans. While the Tanzanian government works to treat the 1.4 million people in the country living with HIV and AIDS, the Hoffmans insist the responsibility of caring for the orphans must fall to the church.

They depend on churches in the United States to fund their orphan-care program. Churches adopt a village of orphans through the Moravians' Board of World Mission. In late fall, the couple went to Wisconsin to give a presentation to a group of small Moravian churches that had joined to sponsor a village.

Soon, all the villages on the Hoffmans' list were adopted. They continue adding more. There is no shortage of orphans in Tanzania. The work can be overwhelming and lonely.

It is like ''spitting in the ocean,'' Bill Hoffman said. Still, the couple returns year after year. ''How can we walk away?''

The Hoffmans brush aside any talk of legacy. ''Nothing is forever,'' said Mama Peg. ''Nothing is permanent.''

In the end, single acts of charity stack one atop the next until churches, clinics and schools are built, babies are born healthy, children fed and clothed.

A path renewed

-- until she went to Tanzania in 2006.

When she came home after five weeks, ''Mia Mia Tanzania,'' as she became known by the other missionaries, was haunted by images of the trip: a starving baby girl in a remote village outside Sikonge; mothers at a hospital shooing flies from their sleeping babies; patients at a leprosy camp sharing a humble meal of beans and rice.

At the camp, Mia was struck by how people in one part of the world live lives of excess, while others struggle to stave off hunger. She imagined the Fourth of July and trips to the grocery store, grilling abundant amounts of food and tossing large quantities into the garbage.

Ultimately, guilt drove her from the camp to avoid taking a share of the meager food someone surely would have offered her.

At home in the Lehigh Valley, the stories flowed from Mia, then the tears. She gathered her strength and embraced the Hoffmans' advice to talk about the mission in the community. She has given 18 slide presentations for churches and civic groups. With each presentation her confidence has grown as has her resolve to do something more for the church and for the orphans in Tanzania.

She knows the Hoffmans' roles are critical. The couple raises funds and oversees how money is spent. Their pictures and stories bring the Tanzanian church to life for the congregation at Central Moravian in Bethlehem.

''You need a Bill and Peg Hoffman to do it,'' said Mia. ''You can't just send the money.''

Mia fears she will never be able to emulate them, especially with two young children, a career and other responsibilities, including director of the Central Moravian Church Sunday school. She can only hope God will show her a way to do more to make a tiny difference in the world.

A friend she made in Sikonge is helping her see the path more clearly. With a gentle smile that belies fierce determination, Mama Zipora Kimwaga juggles a family that includes two orphan granddaughters, her duties as a primary school teacher and her directorship of the Sikonge Moravian Church Sunday school.

On Saturdays, she finds time to run the Hoffmans' orphan program. She now has more than 3,000 children enrolled. Working alongside her in Sikonge as she visited the orphans, Mia grew to love Mama Kimwaga the same way the Hoffmans do. Mia marveled at her special way with children, the orphans she would pull aside, whispering lovingly in their ears.

Mama Kimwaga exudes humility, her hair tucked away in a colorful headdress. Her clothes are neatly pressed, smooth, unlike the gentle creases on her face that tell the story of 58 years or the laugh lines that appear when the smile fades and the brows furrow revealing triangular lines on her forehead.

In May, Central Moravian Church brought Mama Kimwaga to visit Bethlehem. Mia felt, at times, that she was dreaming. The two women from very different worlds, yet with so much in common, met in the easy embrace of old friends.

They shopped together, had dinner at Mia's home with her family and joined for a special ceremony that Mia arranged so her Sunday school students could sing for Mama Kimwaga. Mia spoke of the rainy season in Sikonge and how children walk miles to school. She prodded her friend to reveal more about herself to the children. Though Mia seemed the expert, she reached from time to time for the assurance of Mama Kimwaga's arm.

This time, it was the Hoffmans' turn to remain seated in the audience. They had found in Mia yet another ally in their fight to save the children of Tanzania, the future of the Moravian Church.

Perhaps Mia will one day find herself with the Hoffmans and Mama Kimwaga in a photo on Mr. Mlowezi's wall at the Sikonge District Hospital. She already is planning a return trip.

THE REV. GORDON MOWRER walks with grandson Forrest, then 13, in the Moravian Church's Mission Sikonge. Forrest began the mission to Tanzania sullen and resentful. Since the missionaries' return, Forrest's family has noticed a remarkable change in the teen.